Harry Parker - Anatomy of a Soldier

That same night, Kushan Hhan sat cross-legged on me with his family all around him and watched Faridun eat his soup. He was now old enough to fight, to be caught up in it, and Kushan Hhan prayed he was leading his people in the right direction.

*

One afternoon after the next harvest, when the days were getting hotter, Faridun came home limping and with a bloody lip. Kushan Hhan brought him over and they sat down on me.

‘What happened, my son?’ he said.

‘There was a checkpoint on the way back — I could not avoid it,’ Faridun said. ‘I am sorry, Father. They took your fertiliser.’

‘Was it a government checkpoint? Did the soldiers hurt you?’

‘It was some of Hassan’s men, I think. One of them was from the mountains.’ He licked his swollen lip and looked down at his cut ankle. ‘Latif was with them.’

‘Aadela,’ Kushan Hhan called into the next room, ‘can you bring some water and ointment please? Faridun is hurt.’

‘Why, what happened?’ she said, coming in. ‘What have you done now, Faridun?’

‘Nothing, Mother. I’m sorry about the fertiliser.’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ his father said. ‘Why did they hurt you?’

‘They pushed me over and threatened me.’

‘Why?’

‘Latif was there with them — he must be working with them all the time now.’

His father crouched beside him. ‘Why would they threaten you, Faridun?’

‘They said it was because you work for the infidels.’ He looked at his father. ‘They said they would—’

‘Would what, Faridun?’ his mother said, sitting down in front of him with a bowl.

‘They said if Father continues to work with the foreigners they will behead Lalma.’

‘What is that meant to mean?’ She looked at her husband and then glanced at the doorway and spoke more quietly. ‘What is that meant to mean, Kushan? How can they come here and threaten us like that?’ She was angry and stared at him. ‘You must go and see the governor.’

‘It is not a problem, Aadela,’ he said and stood. ‘I’m sorry you were hurt, Faridun.’

She looked up at him. ‘It is a problem, Kushan.’

‘They try to intimidate us. It is the school, and perhaps the wedding,’ he said, gazing into his garden through the window. ‘We must not let them.’

‘You will speak to Hassan, then. He has gone too far this time.’

‘It is not possible, Aadela. Things have changed.’

‘Hold still, Faridun.’ His mother dabbed his lip with a cloth, and water dripped onto me. ‘Well, you have to do something.’

Faridun brushed away her hand. ‘I’m fine, Mother. Please, give me a moment.’

‘I will not let you put this family in danger, Kushan,’ she said, pressing the cloth back on Faridun’s lip.

‘I will talk to Latif’s father again,’ Kushan Hhan said.

‘Latif doesn’t matter. That foolish boy has made his choice now. How could he do this to Faridun, to us? After everything we have done for his family. Did you not give him a job last harvest?’

‘I will discuss the checkpoints at our next meeting.’ He was dark against the window.

‘Your stupid meetings,’ she said. ‘Nothing ever gets done, you men just sit around like statues and do nothing. I’ll go and talk to Latif’s mother.’

But my owner had gone back into his garden.

In the following weeks Faridun’s lip healed. He came back from the fields each night and ate with the family. They were preparing for his younger sister’s wedding and the women sat around the room and on me sewing silks and threading jewels.

*

One day the women were singing softly, stitching the bridal dress, when Faridun came home early from work.

‘Where is Father?’ he said.

‘In the back field,’ his mother said. ‘Why?’

‘The soldiers are here. They want to speak to him.’

‘What do you mean, here?’ She pulled a thread through the silk in her lap.

‘They’re outside now. Right here, Mother.’

‘Did you bring them here, Faridun?’

But he had already left.

‘We should finish,’ she said.

She made the women and girls leave the room, tidied all the fabrics and needles from me and waited.

Kushan Hhan came back with his son.

‘What is happening?’ she said as they entered.

‘The British soldiers are here, Aadela,’ my owner said. ‘They have come to speak to me.’

She held a length of fabric to her chest. ‘Why are you here, then? Go out and see them.’

‘I have invited them in,’ he told her.

‘You will not, Kushan, I will not let you bring them into this house.’

‘They have asked to see me. We cannot forget our traditions, Aadela.’ He looked out of the door.

She was frightened. ‘It means nothing to them.’

‘Go and make tea, Aadela,’ he said firmly. ‘And do not show yourself.’

‘Do you do this for power, Kushan? It is reckless.’

‘Go,’ he said. ‘Please.’ He glanced at his son. ‘Faridun, bring in the foreigners.’

The boy brought the soldiers in. There were only three of them. The first walked in after Faridun. He was dark and massive and his aerial rattled off the top of the doorway. Once he’d taken his helmet off and pulled a band from his head and smiled, he didn’t seem so huge and strange. He placed his equipment and his rifle down by the door.

Kushan Hhan beckoned him over and they sat on me across from each other. Another soldier waited outside the door and the third man came in and sat with them. He spoke first.

‘This is Captain Tom. I am his translator,’ he said. ‘He thanks you for allowing him into your home. It is very generous of you.’

‘Tell him he is welcome,’ Kushan Hhan said and smiled, touching his hand to his chest.

The young soldier nodded. He was hot and his trousers were damp with sweat. He spoke to the translator.

‘He says he has placed his men around the house for our protection. He is sorry to have to do this. He hopes it does not mark you out.’

‘It is fine: I understand.’

‘Captain Tom is from the base beyond the village.’

‘Tell him I know the base well. I have been there before to meet with them,’ Kushan Hhan said. ‘But each time I go there it is a different man in uniform I speak to. I have never seen your captain. How long has he been here?’

The interpreter and the soldier talked.

‘He has been here for two months. He apologises that they are always changing, but it is beyond his control. I myself have had to speak for three different groups since I have worked with them. They never stay for very long.’

‘Where are you from?’ Kushan Hhan asked the interpreter.

‘From the capital. I learnt English there.’

‘You take a great risk.’

‘As do you,’ the interpreter replied and Kushan Hhan smiled.

While the young man talked to his interpreter, my owner studied another soldier guarding the door into his garden.

‘Captain Tom would like to hear about the school you have opened,’ the interpreter said. ‘He says he wants to support you in this.’

Kushan Hhan still looked out of the door but then turned to the soldier sitting on the other side of me. The man was smiling but Kushan Hhan could tell he wasn’t comfortable being here. ‘Tell the captain that there will be time for talk of schools and government and bombs. Tell him I will bring tea for us to drink together.’

He motioned to Faridun, who went through the back door and returned with a tray holding three small cups of tea, which he put down on me. Kushan Hhan leant forward to drink. The captain did the same, twisting awkwardly in his armour to pick up his cup.

‘He thanks you,’ the interpreter said. ‘He says it is refreshing.’ They all sipped tea and waited.